


want me to love you in moderation

by siriuspiggyback



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Klaus Hargreeves & David "Dave" Katz During Vietnam, M/M, Past Abuse, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Sacrifice, klaus has a lot of love but none for himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/pseuds/siriuspiggyback
Summary: With an impish grin, Klaus says, “Well, I guess I’m just selfish, then.”But Dave doesn’t take the bait. Instead of easing back into their usual banter, he says, “Klaus, you’re really not.”
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 50
Kudos: 309





	want me to love you in moderation

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to dan for checking that this was, like, actual sentences and not just fatigued rambling.
> 
> title from moderation by florence and the machine, which i blame for this fic existing
> 
> tw: references to addiction, abuse, homophobia, and self destructive behaviour

Dave’s acting strange.

It doesn’t bother Klaus too much; everyone is acting strange, these days. It’s the heat. Or the shitty food. Or maybe the fact that they spent the last three days marching through jungle, shooting at shadows who shot back at them, and only just arrived back at camp half an hour ago with four less men than they left with. Who’s to say?

Anyway, strange is hard to define these days. Klaus would be more concerned if he was acting _normal._

The squad were sitting around, eating rations that have actually been heated up (the luxury!) when Dave had abruptly decided to go for a smoke. This is particularly suspicious, considering Dave doesn’t smoke, just gives his cigs to Klaus or uses them as currency in poker games. Klaus scoops the last of his canned “meat” (emphasis on the quotation marks, since it didn’t really taste like… _anything)_ and chews it down fast, already standing to follow. He hopes Dave’s just trying to get them some alone time. It really has been too long since they’ve managed to do more than brush hands under the cover of darkness. Nobody questions his sudden exit; despite all their attempts at secrecy, Klaus is sure they must be pretty transparent. As long as nobody tries to start shit, Klaus doesn’t care, so he doesn’t bother with an excuse.

He finds Dave sitting in the shade cast by a parked M54, flipping his lighter open and closed. His shoulders are tight, but he doesn’t flinch when Klaus drops down beside him and steals the lighter, sticking one of his (Dave’s) cigarettes between his teeth. After the end blooms orange, Klaus tosses the lighter back with a casual, “Thanks.”

Dave doesn’t respond. Another tick in the ‘weird’ column. Klaus pokes him with the toe of his boot, hoping for a reaction - any reaction, really. All he gets is a sigh.

“What’s going on, Davey?”

Dave finally looks at him, but it’s not the sunshine smile that Klaus is usually greeted with. Instead, he looks all pinched and constipated. Klaus wants to touch the corner of his mouth, where it usually curls up, and nobody is looking, so he does. Dave gives a facsimile of that smile, but Klaus can tell when he’s being sold a fake. “Don’t give me that,” he says. 

“Sorry,” Dave breathes, dropping the pretense.

Klaus chews his lip. He’s not good at this bit. More often than not, Dave’s the one doing the comforting, the gentle questions until Klaus blurts out whatever shits bothering him, not the other way around. Klaus has never been in a relationship long enough for it to be a relevant skill. In his past romances, if his partner was looking moody, that was usually his cue to get the hell out of dodge, before they decided it was Klaus’ fault. Eventually, he settles on saying, “C’mon, Dave, talk to me. Isn’t that what you always tell me to do?”

Grimacing, Dave says, “This can’t keep happening.”

All at one, Klaus feels his heart drop into his toes. “What?” he says, airless.

“What happened this morning, you can’t keep doing that.”

“Oh,” Klaus says. “ _Oh._ So you’re not breaking up with me?”

Dave blinks. “Brea- No! Of course not!”

“Well, that’s a relief,” says Klaus. “So, hold on, what about this morning?”

In a tone that suggests it should be obvious, Dave says, “That thing where you tried to go all _human shield_ on me.”

Frowning, Klaus asks, “What about it?”

Flummoxed, Dave just gapes at him for a moment. Then, slowly, he says, “You could have died.”

Again, Klaus says, “What about it?”

“You could have _died._ For _me._ You could have died _because of me,”_ Dave hisses, hands clenched around his knees. “Do you really not see the problem with that?”

Considering it, Klaus blows smoke, eyes distant. After a beat, he says, “I’ve weighed the pros and cons, and I can confirm that it’s still the better option.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Dave says fiercely. “That is not an acceptable option. No.”

Klaus questions, “Isn’t it my decision to make?”

“No, not about this,” says Dave. “Not if it’s for me.”

None of this really makes sense. Usually, Klaus knows when he’s in an argument with someone - it’s a survival skill, in his lifestyle - but right now, he’s honestly not sure. Generally when people are pissed with him, there’s more shouting, more name calling, more posturing and heavy hands and slurs spat at him with enough venom to kill. This isn’t like that at all, and yet Dave’s expression is heavy and his words are hard. And what a strange thing to get angry about? Before, it’s always been a problem of Klaus not caring _enough._ He’s too flighty, too flirty, not paying them enough intention, not available enough for them. He’s never been accused of selflessness, but that’s what this is starting to sound like. Klaus Hargreeves, selfless. What a joke.

In a moment of rare honesty, Klaus says, “I don’t understand.”

Dave runs his palms over his face, then reaches out to hold Klaus’ free hand, and he lets him, even though part of him is already gearing up to run. “Klaus,” he says, “I would never want you to sacrifice yourself for me.”

“But,” says Klaus, “I love you.”

His face crumples. “I know, honey.”

“I love you,” Klaus repeats, just because he likes the weight of the words in his mouth. “Of course I would do that for you.”

“But I love _you,_ and if you did that for me, I don’t know how I would survive it.”

With an impish grin, Klaus says, “Well, I guess I’m just selfish, then.”

But Dave doesn’t take the bait. Instead of easing back into their usual banter, he says, “Klaus, you’re really not.”

As much as he trusts Dave, Klaus also knows that this is a lie. That’s fine. He’ll allow Dave his little fictions. “Can we just drop this? I’m tired, and I can’t believe it but I actually miss my shitty little cot.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dave says apologetically.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know how I’m going to keep functioning if I know that you’re planning on dying for me,” he says, voice going flat.

Klaus runs a hand through his dirty hair. “Look, I’m not _planning_ on it. It’s just, y’know: better me than you.”

“I disagree,” Dave says hotly.

“I don’t care,” says Klaus. “I love you, and I’ll keep you alive if I can.”

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose, a sure sign that he’s getting a headache. “Look, I know you love me,” Dave says, voice low, “but I need you to try and love yourself a little, too. Okay?”

Dismissive, Klaus says, “Not really my style.”

“What is your style, then?” asks Dave, exasperated.

Klaus takes a long drag, and shoots Dave a wolfish grin. “I find something I love,” he says, eyes scorching hot and voice icy cold, “and then I let it kill me.”

A sharp inhale, and Dave turns his face away. Klaus almost regrets his words - almost.

“I don’t want that,” Dave says, voice small where he’s facing his own knees.

“That’s just how it is, babe,” Klaus says, watching what remains of his cigarette burn down to the filter. “I don’t really do _moderation._ Never have.”

“I don’t want to be your addiction, Klaus,” he says.

Dave is still facing away, and Klaus cant resist reaching out and tilting his chin up until their eyes meet. _There you are,_ he thinks. “What do you want to be?” 

Eyes darting between Klaus’, Dave says, “I just want to be good for you.” 

A slow smile breaks across Klaus’ mouth, like the sun at dawn. “You already are.”

“Not if I get you killed,” he says grimly. “I don’t want to be like your pills, Klaus.”

“You’re not,” Klaus promises. He tilts forward, abandoning his cigarette, and presses his forehead against Dave’s. They’re both grimy and sweaty, but neither of them give a damn about that. 

“I know what they say about people like us,” whispers Dave. “How it’s a- a disease. I don’t want us to be like that. I was us to be… healthy. Good.”

“Dave,” he says, “this is the closest to happy I’ve ever been.”

Dave blinks fast. They’re so close, Klaus swears he feels his eyelashes brush past, soft as angel wings. “The drugs make you happy, too,” he points out, voice unstable.

“Okay, maybe,” Klaus concedes, “but… the drugs never loved me back. But you do. Right?”

“So much,” Dave says against his cheeks, where he lays a gentle kiss. “So damn much.”

Klaus feels his lip wobble, and bites down on it before Dave can notice, but of course he does anyway, reaching up and pressing his thumb against it. The gesture is so careful, Klaus thinks it might break him. “Then that’s gotta count for something,” he says, a little desperate.

“I think it counts for a lot,” says Dave, and seals his words with a kiss.

(Klaus never promises to stop trying to save him, and Dave never stops asking Klaus to love himself.

In the end, none of it really matters, because when the time comes, Klaus never gets the chance.)


End file.
